Mactusk's Trophey
by Lanny-Sama
Summary: It's winter, and the Mactusks are ready to hunt. Yet this time, something new stirs in the forest...


_I do not always follow the logic of the game, because that would make for a less interesting story. PLease do enjoy! _

**MacTusk's Trophey**

MacTusk groaned as he put the last few pieces of the igloo in place. His son had proved to be largely useless, putting down a whole two ice-blocks before running after a jackrabbit with the hounds. Maybe it was time for him to pick up the darts, at least he'd come back from his little play trips with something to show for it. MacTusk started to unpack his bag, and immediately strapped his darts to his belt. He'd been out hunting here before, and it was never safe, no matter how tranquil it all seemed. Good thing that wee MacTusk took the hounds, you never know.  
A chirping roar alerts MacTusk of his sons arrival, and the two blue hounds yip and bark in excitement. Maybe MacTusk had wanted to be a little cross with his son for not helping him set up the igloo, but when the young walrus shows him his catch (a seriously chewed up jackrabbit) he can't stay mad. Tomorrow they would go hunting for real, and junior would get his first lessons in hunting on the evil grounds.

The next day they were up early, and MacTusk had made additional darts, just in case they come across something more needy of death than your average jackrabbits ice birds. He sure hoped so, he came here more for enjoyment than food-collecting.  
They set out, blue hounds excitedly sniffing about, and wee Mactusk pointing out non-existant marks of prey, even going so far as to spot Koelephant footsteps in a pinecone. He still needed more practice than just this one hunting trip, but his excitement more than made up for it.  
MacTusk shot a dart at a rabbit, and it keeled clean over. The missus at home had hinted on a coat of soft jackrabbit fur, and it wouldn't be too much work to peel the skin off. He'd set junior on that task right after they'd caught enough rabbits.  
He shoots darts until he only has a few more hanging from his belt, and then the hunters return to their igloo, arms full of rabbits and hounds whining for scraps at their feet.  
It is right when Junior is bringing the meat inside that MacTusk sees a new threat, far too close to their camp. He doesn't recognize it, and it dives behind a tree when he tries to get a better look. By the time he reaches the tree, the thing is gone, leaving only unrecognizable prints in the snow. He sends the hounds after it immediately, but they return a while later with clean snouts.  
MacTusk can't help but love the chill that runs through him. Who knew what they were up against! Even if it turned out to be a defenseless little thing, it would be one of a kind, and MacTusk would like that on his wall, as would his wife! Maybe even more than that coat she had been hinting at!  
He restocks his darts as quickly as he can, and urges junior to follow him and he strange prints in the snow. It would be a glorious first trophey for his son, a never before seen animal from the cursed island!  
The tracks are strange, and almost frighteningly straight. This thing knows where it is going, and doesn't waste time on twists and turns. Wee Mactusk helps him spot the next tracks, and then they arrive at a crude camp.  
Dried hunks of animal hang on dirty ropes, and several wooden boxes almost burst out of their seams, so filled are they with random junk and treasure. The tracks are all over the place, but still, the animal is nowhere to be seen. It's a smart creature, frighteningly so, and it would make for a better trophey than anything else! Anyone could off a Beefalo, a few pigs or a Tallbird. This predator already had, judging from the animals hunks drying on the racks.  
Wee Mactusk looked worried, and he clenched his own darts tightly in his flippers. This would be no ordinary hunt. It would be an ambush of a deadly creature.

The waiting was long, and the tension grew between son and father, but finally, a rustling from the forest signalized the return of the animal. Both walruses held their breath and had their darts at the ready as their target appeared.  
The creature was indeed unlike they had ever seen. Three black curled horns adorned the head, making a ghostly white face stand out from beneath. It was dressed in the corpses of its prey, Koelephant snout stuffed with beefalo fur and spiderwebbings, crude earmuffs made from jackalope fur, and a backpack made from pig leather.  
It saw them, and made a startled jump backwards. For just a moment, MacTusk wanted to see the beast in its full glory, before ending its life and presenting its evil horned head to his family. He roared, and the hounds shot from their positions towards the menace. MacTusk himself immediately blew a dart at it as well.  
It screamed loudly as it hit, and took off into the forest, faster than he had expected. The hounds ran after it with loud howls. He prepared a second dart, and signalled for his son to follow in the persuit.  
The hounds whined in the distance, and he could hear one of them scream in its death throes. Both father and son arrived just in time to see the horned creature drive a pointed spear right through their last hound.  
Then it turned his sights onto them, and shudders of delight went through MacTusk's hide. Eye to eye with the predator! Trying to outsmart the other, a true fight of life and death! Hah. He would show this creature, who is the smartest!  
He blew another dart, and the creature cried out in rage and pain, raising its weapon threateningly. It howled a choked up battlecry, and charged forward. MacTusk knew better than to stand still, and he fled from the wild beast, heart pounding. He was outrunning it, but only barely! He turned his head just in time to see the predator catching up to his son.  
He roared out a warning, but it was too late. The pointed tip of the weapon dug into wee MacTusk's side, and he squealed in pain. Suddenly the thrill of the hunt had turned into the ice-cold fear that he might lose his son. The beast crooned in victory, and raised it's spear for the final blow.  
Any caution was blown in the wind by old MacTusk. Forgetting all the safety rules when dealing with wild animals, he charged at the monster attempting to kill his son, and managed to bash the harmful creature out of the way, catching the spear in his left flipper as he did so.  
Wee MacTusk was a ghostly pale, but he stumbled to his feet as his father took a blowdart from his belt. The expression of fear on the predator's strange snout would have been comical if not a bit piteous before to MacTusk, but now he only felt gratification.  
He blew his dart at the creature, and it hit it square in the chest. With an almost walrus-like moan, the predator sank to its knees, the weapon dropped from its talons and its throphey's slowly going red from blood.  
They were victorious. His son stood shaking behind him, and stared at the animal struggling for its life in the snow. Such a mighty predator, now weakly pawing at the snow in its death throes.  
It's struggling soon slowed, and it just laid breathing and bleeding on the ground. It's intelligent eyes were hazy with pain and panic, and even as it started losing consciousness, they could tell it was still trying to think a way out of its situation. MacTusk treated his sons wounds, as they waited for the beast to die, and in the end, wee MacTusk could even grin, boasting that a scar from such a dangerous creature would make him more attractive. MacTusk could only agree, and thank whatever gods there were for the life of his son.  
Together they watched the creature faint and die, before they bound it and dragged it through the snow to their igloo.

The MacTusks left early that winter, and from that winter forth, in their home, resides the one and only taxidermied, black-horned beast.


End file.
